The Hidden Casebook
by coolb92
Summary: It's the final part of the Hidden trilogy. Cassandra continues the path paved by her mentor, Sherlock Holmes. But, when "The Riddle Master", wants her to play the game, it's the darkest game she has played. It is a race against time, a game where Cassandra's decisions effects everything, even the lives around her. "How much can a mind work when a person is broken behind repair?"


**_Author's note: First I would like to say I am so sorry this is so late. I had been in a car accident at the start of summer breaking my ankle which needed surgery. Second, I am giving out a warning that updates may be slow as I am working while going to school full time. I only own Cassandra and a few other, while everyone else belongs to Doyle. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows, while reviews are wonderful._**

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**_"The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."_**

**_ Lao Tzu_**

**_Chapter 1_**

Seven years had passed since Holmes returned from his hiatus. The year was 1901 and I was at the age of five and twenty. Queen Victoria's reign had ended some months before and a new age was upon us. While things were beginning to change one thing stayed the same. I continued to work on cases with my mentor and friend, Sherlock Holmes.

However this part of my life had also been my darkest. As Holmes had once told me while he faced Professor James Moriarty it was not only a game against the criminal but also playing against your better self. There would be times where I would have to make choices, choices that called for sacrifices to be made. It was a game played without rules, a game where I had lost many, while also nearly losing myself. But I am too far ahead. The beginning of my troubles started at the fair.

Every few years a large fair would be held in Greenwich. I had only traveled there once with Jess as a young girl, much against my mentor's wishes. I understood his reasoning for i when I arrived and I have never been back since. However Jess had insisted on going and taking her young son Theodore with her. Of course she had picked the day where both Albert and Sam were busy. Knowing my friend's trick I had no choice but to watch over my godson.

I was walking down the path to the park when a small body ran into me. I looked down and saw a head of light brown hair. The boy was wearing a small grey suit and that some spots of dirt on the knees. The little boy looked up and I was met with brown eyes.

"Hello, Aunt Cassie." He greeted me hugging me tightly.

I returned the embrace. "Hello, Teddy."

"Aren't you excited about the fair?" He asked smiling at me.

"I would not use those words to express how I feel."

"He has been talking nonstop of today." Jess said.

"Yes, because someone promised him that I would be joining you. Joining in something by force I might add."

"It's good for you to be out. No need you need to be inside all day like Holmes."

"Being out I do not mind. What I don't like is this need to drag me along to the fair." I said dramatically.

Teddy giggled as he looked at me. "But it will be fun. Mummy says it will be "

"That is because she knows what kind of trouble to get into when my back is turned."

"Must you tell him such things?" Jess asked.

"Yes. After you will ruin this boy's intelligence by taking him to this fair." I sighed.

"But it will be fun!" Teddy said. "I told Papa I would work extra hard on maths when we returned."

"You will do your very best?"

The little boy nodded. "Yes, I promise."

"Hmm, alright. But, you must do better than last time."

"I will."

The fair was busy. Different stalls were close to each other. Games were being played, the smell of different food waved its way through the air. Little booths of the theatre were set up, the characters coming to life. Strong man showed off their muscles as bets were placed for a fight. Jugglers of all kinds, throwing up different objects in the air, as well as posture-makers tying their limbs together.

Jess and I kept Teddy close to us. He played a few games, and won a prize. I pointed out a show and we walked over to it. Teddy smiled and laughed at the performers. I made sure to slip them an extra coin.

As Jess and I walked through the tents with Teddy in front, we talked. "Thank you for introducing Father Michael to me." I said. "Never thought I would meet a priest I would actually like."

"I thought you both would have gotten along. What is it you both have interest in again?"

"Paleography. Its the study of ancient writing, deciphering, reading and dating historical manuscripts. I never thought a man of the cloth would know such things."

Jess shook her head. "It is all above me. Then again you have always enjoyed puzzles and hidden things."

"It's not much of a puzzle really. It's only trying to find out the single alphabet in different languages, while also knowing how to interpret abbreviations."

"As I said, don't understand any of it."

"What are abbreviations?" Teddy asked me.

I smiled. "It is writing that shortens a word. Paper was very expansive a long time ago, Teddy so people tried to make it last."

"Oh. Mummy, I'm hungry."

"We will be back in a moment, Cassandra. I think they are selling oranges over there." Jess said.

I stood off to the side watching as people passed when a voice called out to me. "I can see you are not at home here out there."

I turned around and saw an old woman sitting in a tent. A fortune teller. She held out her hand to me. "Come, come. Allow me to read your palm. I have cards to speak of your future."

I shook my head. "I'm not interested."

"Come, come." She beckoned.

I sighed knowing that she would not give up on me as I made my way inside her tent. I laid out five pounds on the table as I sat. The woman took the money and placed it into her purse.

"We will begin with reading your palm." She said.

She took my hand and gently traced her finger across. "Ah, the trace of the Irish. Here the lines say you have known death since the day of your birth. Your mother died that day, didn't she?"

I did not answer her, but she nodded. "Yes, yes. Ah you have hard times. You were raised by your father...but this line tells me you are an orphan. Someone who has been a father to you has cared for you. There are many lines crossing over each other. A mixture of both good and bad times in your young life."

"You are quite good. What gave it all away?" I asked.

"You are right to question me, right to be weary of people." The old woman said. "But, I only say what the lines in your hand tell me. Now, let us see your future."

She handed me the deck and I shuffled. I handed it back and she laid the cards face down. "Choose three cards, but let them speak to you."

I picked up my three and she took them placing them upwards.

"The fool. You are on a great journey. Though I cannot see where it will lead you. Aye, the tower. Something in your life will be shaken. There is something upsetting to you coming your way."

"I don't suppose that you could tell me what sort of tower I am to look out for?" I asked.

"It is unclear, though the cards tell me it is part of the journey." She said.

"If that is all..."

"You have not heard your third and final card."

I sighed, but waved my hand. "Carry on."

"Death. Most people are upset when they see this, but there is nothing to fear. Sometimes, it is a good thing. With death comes new life, or it is a change you face."

"This has been interesting." I admitted standing to my feet. "I just do not believe it."

"Hard times are ahead of you, Cassandra Vernet. I would take great caution."

I walked out of the tent and heard Jess call to me. A sudden thought came to me that stopped me in my tracks. "Wait, just how is it that you learned my name?" I asked turning around.

The woman was gone. Before I could think of where she could have went, a small hand tugged on my mine. "Aunt Cassie, where were you?" Teddy asked.

"I was right here." I said as Jess walked over.

"No, we've been looking for you. Where did you go?" She asked.

"I went into a tent because some woman wanted to read my fortune and would not leave me alone. The strangest thing is she…" I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."

Suddenly, screams broke out. Police whistles started going off as a crowd ran past us. I picked Teddy up and handed him to his mother. "Take him, and go."

"Aunt Cassie!" The young boy cried.

"But, Cassandra."

"Jess, take your son out of here. Something is wrong, don't worry I will look into this."

Jess looked at me for a moment, before she nodded. I ran to where the screaming was coming from. Other were gathering as I fought through the crowd.

"Keep back this is now a Scotland Yard matter." A loud voice commanded.

"Lestrade! Lestrade!" I called out.

The crowd moved and I spotted the good inspector. "Miss Vernet, never been happier to see you." He said.

"What is all of this about?" I asked standing beside him.

"A man apparently dropped down dead. Was walking clear as day, but he just died on the spot. I had a lad run to the station to get more men."

"May I?"

"Of course. See what you can find out before the others get here. I'll keep the crowd back."

I walked towards the body and knelt down. From his clothing I could tell that he was a worker form the fair, most likely a stage hand from one of the shows. It was a male between right and thirty, but no more than five and forty. His hair was a darker shade of red. His eyes were wide open, holding a look of pain and shock.

His mouth was open, but there was no sign of foaming. I pulled a pen from my pocket and lifted his tongue, but found nothing to suggest he shallowed anything. I looked at his hands and then pulled back his sleeve. On his left wrist was a bright red dot. I frowned before searching his pockets. I found his wallet with papers that identified him as George S. Fraser. In his other pocket I found a needle and syringe.

Satisfied with my findings, I stood up. "What do you make of it?" Lestrade asked. "Do you think it was heart failure?"

"Not without some sort of aid, I'm afraid." I answered.

"You're certain of this?" At my raised brow, he sighed annoyed. "What killed him?"

"From what I could see, it was an injection of some sort."

"Brilliant, bloody brilliant. Did he do it to himself?"

"No." I answered. "Somehow, I find it difficult for him to drug himself in the middle of the day. He's a working man, works here at the fair. If he had been caught no doubt he would lose his job. Oh, and he is left handed. Makes it somewhat complicated."

Lestrade sighed annoyed. "It could have been anyone then. Most likely they are already gone."

"Possible." I commented. "But someone would have gotten rather close to him. I doubt he would allow a passerby near him. I can't see a stranger risking such a thing."

Officers from the yard arrived and Lestrade spoke to them for a while. When he finished he walked over to speak with me. "Someone did it to him, but made it look like he did it to himself. Why would someone risk such a thing during the day?" Lestrade asked.

"At this time, I don't know. I agree that people would have seen it happen. I will send word to Holmes. Maybe he and Watson can shed some light into this. This is why I hate the fair. Jess tricked me here. She had promised Teddy-

"Christ, I left Molly alone!"

Molly was his twelve year old daughter. I did not comment upon the fact that he left her alone. The man was worried enough as it were as he raced back to the spot he had left her at. I followed after him and soon we came to the young girl sitting on a bench waiting.

"That was longer that five minutes, Da." she told him.

Lestrade let out a sigh of relief as he kissed the top of her head. "Forgive me, poppet. Didn't mean to leave you here for so long."

"Hello, Miss Vernet." Molly said to me. "Are you here to work with Da?"

"So it would seem, Miss Molly." I answered.

"Does this mean I need to go home?" The young girl questioned her father.

"Afraid so. As soon as this is all over I will take you to the park on my next day off." To me he asked. "Would you mind...I mean you wanted to send word to Holmes and I don't live that far from here…"

"Can't leave her here now can we? It won't be a problem, Lestrade. Come along, Miss Molly. Let's leave your father to his work and return you to your mother."

After sending a message to Holmes from an irregular, which cost me the last of my coin, I took Molly Lestrade home. When I returned to the fair, Lestrade had the mind to set up a cavern where we would be able to question the workers. The fair had become quiet with only officers and reporters, though it was not that quiet at all.

Holmes had arrived sometime while I was away and waved me over to him. I quickly explained to him what I had seen. He listened as I spoke and nodded his head satisfied with what I had observed.

"Has the body been removed?" He asked.

"The medical examiner has just arrived. He wishes to take away the body." A constable from the side said.

"Watson, go with the medical man. I need you to go and report your findings on this man's death. Come back to Baker Street when you are finished. Now, Cassandra." Holmes said then turning to me. "You believe that someone close to him mist have caused Mr. Fraser's death, do you stand by it?"

"No one else would have risked it. If they were close than no one would think anything of it if they were seen together." I answered.

"Good. I want you to go out on the grounds and see what you can learn if anything. Be my eyes and ears, Cassandra."

I nodded my head and left the cavern. I was walking the grounds and pinching pieces to use for a costume when someone shouted.

"Miss! Miss, wait!" I ignored the voice and moved on. A man about my age stepped up beside me.

He was little under six feet and was thin. He was also dressed simply, placing him in the middle class. He was wearing a light brown suit, though the coat was tossed over his shoulder at the moment. His brown hair was tossed to the side as if he had been running his hand through causing it to stick up. His brown eyes stared at me eagerly hoping I could answer any of his questions.

I eyed him cooly, dismissing him, but he paid no mind. "Miss, can you tell me what you were doing in the police cavern just now?" He asked. "My name is Finn Conners. I'm with the evening Telegraph."

I had no time to be bothered, especially by a reporter. "Go away." I said walking faster.

He also quickened his pace. "You were speaking with Sherlock Holmes, can you tell me what it was about? Do you know anything about what has taken place here today?"

"It is of no concern to you."

The git would not give up. "But, Miss the people of London have a right to know why this man is dead."

I stopped and looked at him. "Right? They have no right to put their noses where it does not belong. If this was a murder, which I am not saying that it is or isn't, then a proper interview will take place once it is solved. Now, I have no more time for your nonsense."

"You're her ain't you?"

"Who?"

"The woman who tags along on police business, the one who works with Sherlock Holmes. I must admit that I am very interested in you." Conners said.

"I beg your pardon!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry that came out wrong." He shuttered. "You see I'm interested in what you do. I've been tracking down your cases for months, but there is hardly anything that is said about you. I have tried to speak to your past clients about you, but they never say a word of you."

"With good reason." I answered. "Now, I am in the middle of work at the moment-

"Can I come with you?"

I shook my head. "Absolutely not."

I started to walk again, but the annoying reporter followed. I said nothing, hoping that if I didn't pay any attention to him, he would go away. In spite of that, he still trailed behind me. Finally having had enough I spun on my heels and stared at him.

"Do not say one word. You need to stop being my shadow give us some distance. And for god's sake stop writing everything down!"

He nodded his head and tucked away his small notepad. "What changed your mind?" He asked.

"I realized that I would be wasting more time by telling you off and finally answering stupid questions." I said curtly.

I wrapped an old scarf I nicked around his neck and found a group of workers. I simply made my way over and stood in the back. Conners has listened to my instructions and stood far enough away from me, but would still be able to hear what I did.

I tapped the man next to me and asked for a cigarette and a match. He handed me both. "New one aye?" He asked me.

"Just started." I said lighting my cigarette. I breathed it in and asked. "What happened to Fraser anyways?"

"Ole George dropped dead." An older man said leaning back against the brick wall.

"E's been in good health." The one on my other side said.

"Don't mean nothing." The old man said. "Could have been the sprits he enjoyed."

"No more than yeh drink, Harry." The man who I borrowed the cigarette from joked.

Everything laughed, then one man kicked a stone. "Too bad about Miss Claire."

"Aye, devoted she was to him. Poor thing."

"Claire his girl then?" I asked.

"For some time now. Was going to marry her." The man said.

Having heard enough from them, I put out my cigarette and left the group. Conners followed me as I tossed away the men's clothing. "Is that all? You were finding things out?"

"Don't make it seem like it's an awful chore." I said picking up one of the women's costume from the performance that was hung in an empty tent. "I need to discover what kind of man he was and if someone would kill him."

"So it was a murder."

I shooed him out as I changed. "I never said it was."

"But you are looking into it."

I poked my head out. "I'm looking into all aspects of this." I went back into the tent. "For all I know he may have committed suicide."

"But if he did there would be a note." Conners said.

"What?"

"Suicide. People who commit them leave a note. Haven't you noticed it?"

"Can't say I have." I admitted. "Then again, I do not look into suicide."

I came out and then walked over to the performer's tent. Some of the girls were still there so I sat down at a dressing table far enough away not to draw any attention.

"It's awful what happened." A blonde girl said.

A black haired woman nodded. "It is. Poor Claire hasn't been out of her tent."

"Neither has that little nit." Another said.

"Hush, Jeanette."

"It's not right, I say. Thing acts like it was her fiancé that was done in."

The blonde shook her head. "She's young and doesn't know any better."

"Anyways, it's Claire we need to be worried about. I mean they were to be married later this month."

"She was very much in love with George. Hard to believe he's gone."

I stepped out of the tent and met back with Conners. I changed back into my clothes and returned to the cavern. I relied to Holmes what I had heard.

"Yes, I have heard the same of this Miss Claire as well when we spoke to some of the girls. I had them wait to question her until you...who is that man?"

I turned around and found that my reporter friend was still with me. "Ah yes. Holmes, this is Finn Conners. He's a reporter for the Telegraph. Seems he knows things about suicide."

"I only know one or two things." He said. "It is a great pleasure to meet you, Mister Holmes."

Holmes nodded his head and then pulled me aside. "What is a reporter doing here, Cassandra?" He whispered furious.

"I tried to get rid of him." I whispered back.

"Try harder."

"He's not so horrid. Helped a bit strange enough."

"Cassandra!"

"He made the point that if someone were to commit suicide they would leave a note. Fraser didn't." I said.

"You are to get rid of him. We do not work with reporters."

"You do it then. He's a stubborn little bugger."

I went back into the cavern without them. Lestrade raised his brow at me. "Where is-

"Trying to take care of something that he won't be able to do." I said sitting beside him. "Holmes said that you were waiting for me to question Miss Claire?"

He nodded. "Yes, and another young girl. She is very distraught over this whole affair. We thought it best for you to handle them. Sentiment and all."

"You and Holmes simply do not want to have to deal with a crying woman."

The door opened and Holmes walked in with Conners behind him. When Holmes took his seat beside me he said. "Not a word from you."

"I did say he was a little bugger."

Miss Claire was a woman in her prime. She had red hair and her eyes were a dark green. Normally she was a very pretty thing. However, her eyes were red and her face was blanched. Her hair hung limp over her shoulders. She was still in a state of shock. I knew that I would not get much from her and that we needed to tend carefully otherwise she would break down entirely.

"Miss Claire, is it?" Holmes asked her gently.

The young woman nodded her head. "Yes, sir. " She said softly.

"We understand that you had a great loss this afternoon."

"Yes, sir. George and I were...were to be married." She sniffed.

"It was at the end of the month, wasn't it?" I asked.

Miss Claire nodded her head. "Yes."

"Do you think that you may be able to clear some things up for us?"

"Will you find out what happened to him?"

The most difficult question. I always hated it. It was either answered with an empty promise or the cold truth. "I and everyone else here will put forth all of our best efforts into it." I answered carefully.

"What...what do you want to know?" Miss Claire asked.

"Do you know of anyone who would have reason to harm Mr. Fraser?" Asked Lestrade.

"No, no one. We'll all like family here. ain't no body harming anyone in this group."

"What about anyone who was in a disagreement with him?" Holmes asked.

"Well yes. There are a few, but not anything that would led to someone harming him!" Miss Claire exclaimed.

"Sometimes the little things are the most important."

She shook her head and closed her eyes. "I know the disagreements were with one or two of the male performers. I don't know who as he never said. But, I know that it was about little things. Things like not caring for the props or for not knowing lines."

"Has there been a change in mood of Mr. Fraser before he died?" I asked.

She didn't answer for a moment, as more tears poured down her face. I gave her my handkerchief. "E's been more annoyed then usual. It's because of Ruth Sterns. She's a young girl and fancies him. Poor girl, she's been upset since we announced the engagement."

"What is it she did that had annoyed him so?"

"Childish things really. Always trying to interrupt us when we talk, messed up the number we shared a few times. She wanted his attention, but she never did anything harmful."

"And where were you when your fiancé fell?" Lestrade asked her gently.

"In the tent with the other girls getting ready to go on. That's when we heard some shouts. Lolita stepped out to see what happened and ran back in saying what it was. I'm...I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember what else happened."

"Thank you, Miss Claire, you have helped a great deal." Holmes said.

She nodded her head and then she left. A man walked inside a moment later. He was a big man, though not in the sense of being a very fit man. He had dark blonde hair that was beginning to grey. "I'm Stephen Finch. The mangler of this performer group, Mister Holmes." He said to my mentor.

"And you have something to say about the death of this worker of yours." Holmes said without interest, but he waved for the man to take a seat.

"Yes, indeed I do. You see Mister Holmes, what Claire said about true about this group. We all are like family here."

"How you came to know this sort of knowledge is considered eavesdropping." I said. "I certainly hope that you keep that in mind before you go further."

"Well, since you are not a stranger to over hearing things, then I suppose you know all of the going ons in this little group of yours." Holmes said.

Mister Finch nodded his head. "Yes, I do. I am aware of the one sided love Ruth held for George Fraser. But she is a mere girl of fifteen and should be spared this, it has been a tiring day for her."

"Be that as it may be," Lestrade said. "She still must give us her statement. If it would make her more comfortable, we can have Miss Vernet speak to her alone."

"I am afraid that she was given a mild sedative."

"She was given a sedative?" I asked. "Was it not explained to you that everyone must be questioned here?"

"By the time I was found and had been told of this it was too late. Besides the girl was in a state. I was not about to leave her to it. I am only trying to do the best for that young girl."

Holmes laid his hand on my shoulder, stoping me from saying anything else to him. "We will speak to her in the morning than. I suggest since she is ready as we will be here at first light. The officers will stand ground here tonight to see that you are not disturbed by reporters."

The manager gave an incline of his head and then left us. Lestrade throw his hands up annoyed. "Don't know about you two, but I'm not satisfied."

"Neither am I." I answered. "I don't know about you, Holmes but after these interviews I am starting to believe that it wasn't an accident."

"It does paint a rather interesting picture."

Conners, who had stayed silent, looked back and forth at us. "So you think she did it then? The young girl?"

"My dear man, we never assume anything without collecting all data." Holmes replied. "As such nothing more will be said on the matter until Watson returns to Baker Street with his findings. I believe we shall wait for him there. Cassandra, a word."

Once we were left alone he turned to me. "Do get rid of him, will you?"

"You must admit, Holmes, he was quick to catch onto our thinking." I said. "He knew that we were thinking of Sterns."

"Be that as it may, he is to be left behind and you are to handle it."

"If you insist."

As we walked out, I pulled aside Conners. "It would seem that you have your story. It's more than what anyone can say that they have. I'm afraid this is where we must go our separate ways."

"Wait, why are you waiting for the doctor?" He asked.

"Autopsy, Conners. Well, goodbye."

However as I walked to the main road, Conners followed asking more questions. By the time I had a cab, he was struggling to think of more to ask in order to stay in company.

"The story is not finished yet." He said. "The readers will want to have the ending."

"Isn't that what the morning post is for?"

"Oi, missy, haven't all day." The driver called down to me.

"Yes, I'm sorry. Only a minute longer. Conners, I'm sorry, but I really must go. Listen you were a help today, you really were. I'll consider another time having you-damn it."

"What?" He asked.

"I paid someone to run a message with the last of my money. Seems like I will be walking to Baker Street."

The driver cursed and shouted at me, but Conners stopped him. "I have money, enough to take us to Baker Street."

"Seems that I will not hear the end of this." I mused. "Very well."

"Why do you do this? Solving crimes and such I mean." Conners asked once we were tucked away inside the cab.

"Why do you write for the Telegraph?"

"Why, writing is what I am good at. It has been something that I have done since I was a young lad."

"Solving problems is what I have been doing for as long as I can remember. I was taught to see the world by looking at the details." I answered.

"But who taught you these things?" He asked.

I smiled and leaned back in my seat. "Why not take everything that you saw today and tell me that answer. And don't guess, give me an explanation of your observations."

When we arrived to Baker Street, Conners still did not have an answer, though I could see he was in the mist of placing the pieces together. I led him up the seventeen steps and into the sitting room. Holmes looked at me unimpressed.

"Cab fare." I said by the way of excusing the reporter's presence. "Do close your mouth, Lestrade. You're beginning to look like a fish."

Some time passed before Watson returned. When we did we gave him a moment to get his bearings before plaguing him with questions.

"What did you find out?" Holmes finally asked.

"Our finding is unusual and I am afraid that it not something you will want to hear."

"Out with it, man!" Lestrade exclaimed. "I'm too tired to keep up trying to understand all of you talking in riddles."

"It would seem that Mr. George Fraser died of natural cause. He died from a bee string."


End file.
